


almost heaven

by idontknowhowtoread (heatherpotts)



Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club
Genre: Cowboys, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, This Is STUPID, Vampires, also asagao august technically fdjhgdf, also vampires work very loosely but dont even worry about it, exaggerated cowboy talk, i might write more for them later tho i lovb these cowboys, local vampire is very emotionally repressed (not clickbait), minor-ish violence, not actually as romantic as i was thinking it was going to be oops, sad distant yeehaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 20:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherpotts/pseuds/idontknowhowtoread
Summary: A place like this was truly the last place Luke would have expected to find home.





	almost heaven

**Author's Note:**

> wEST VIRGINIAAA, BLUE RIDGE M-
> 
> (this is really just based on this tumblr post, https://shorthalt.tumblr.com/post/185121795691/shorthalt-a-vampire-stands-on-the-front-porch , its cowboy ian and vampire luke and it got way sadder than it should have. can I get a yeehaw)

Luke couldn't help feeling like he was a _ really bad vampire. _

** **

In his- _ two months, now? _ In his two months of being a vampire, he hadn't actually brought himself to feed on an _ actual human person _ yet, and he doubted he could go on like _ this. _ He didn’t know for sure, he figured it had been going decently well so far, but he had a feeling that he couldn’t spend his whole life just drinking chicken blood. He hadn't won _ any _ sort of confrontation with a human yet, either, let alone his whole… moral dilemma, over this whole thing. Usually, he'd hide, which his new, somewhat undead state made easier, but if he got caught, he'd have no choice but to fight. 

** **

Which, thus far, had backfired every single time. There was still a bullet lodged in his shoulder, and another in his thigh, those which he promptly wrapped and tried to ignore. There wasn't much else he could do, and they were _ probably fine; _ and, of course, the various bruises and scrapes that came from floundering in combat and inevitably running away. He didn't know how many of these injuries he was still supposed to even be able to _ get _, if they were a sign of some true inevitable end. He didn't know much of anything, ever since he ran away after being turned.

** **

Maybe if he had stayed with _ her, _ a thought that always made him shiver despite him constantly being cold anyway, just for one day more, he could have figured out how to actually be a competent vampire. Maybe he could have stolen some books, or some blood for the road, maybe a _ weapon, _ but no.

** **

In this strange farmland, one that was entirely too sunny most of the time and where the people knew their land well and how to protect it, he was nothing more than a pest, no more dangerous than a coyote.

** **

No, coyotes actually knew how to _ act _ when they had their chance at bloodshed. 

** **

When the farmer approached him, at the time nothing more than a blur of shades of brown and blue fading into the early morning light, and asked him if he was _ okay, _ Luke didn't pounce. He had probably sprained something in the mad rush to get away from him, come to think of it, so maybe he wouldn't have gotten away either way.

** **

The farmer kneeled down in the brush by Luke, and Luke's vision slowly came into focus. Wide grey eyes, filled with so much curiosity and concern rather than fear, the wide brimmed hat acting like more of a _ halo, _ strands of long brown hair falling into his face, away from the ponytail at the back of his head. Luke flinched at the sound of his voice, the accent and drawl unfamiliar, but the tone more gentle than anything he had heard in _ years. _

** **

"Oh, Lord," The farmer said, hands slowly coming in to hold Luke's shoulders, his gaze flickering between making eye contact and looking over his many injuries. "They musta' roughed you up real good, huh' partner?"

** **

Luke really didn't understand at all what that meant, but he immediately assumed the worst, clenching his jaw and trying his hardest to look intimidating.

** **

Clearly, it failed. The farmer didn't budge an inch, and Luke really only felt like he was going to cry.

** **

"No need to get all tough on me, Santiago. You're hurt. Lemme' fix you up, alright?"

** **

Luke was far more confused about being called Santiago than he was motivated to refuse and try to get away. The feeling was only strengthened when the farmer helped him up, telling him to _ get back on his horse, _ or something. He helped him across the field of weeds and wildflowers to his farmhouse, mumbling words of vague encouragement and Luke quickly realized just how _ bad _ of a shape he was in, now that he had something to lean on.

** **

He didn't know why he was trusting the farmer. He didn't know why the farmer was trusting _ him. _ All he knew was that one of them should have been dead by that point, but Luke couldn't see himself gaining the upper hand anytime soon.

** **

Right outside the door, on the porch, Luke protested weakly, vaguely remembering some vampire law, but the farmer cut him off.

** **

"I warmly welcome you into my humble abode, fair stranger," he said warmly, gesturing grandly, and Luke felt the force that kept him from entering dissipate. 

** **

Luke didn't have time to question the meaning behind that, either.

** **

At some point after Ian helped lay him down on the couch, he passed out- _ a welcome change _ from sleeping in bushes or in a shallow hole like he was used to. It sucked that he even still _ had _ to sleep as a vampire, but... 

** **

For once, he didn't mind waking up. His body still ached, but it seemed like the farmer had cleaned him up a bit while he was asleep, which...

** **

Felt... _ nice, _ but actually, _ what? _

** **

He wasn't used to being without the heavy, typically wet weight of the rags he tried to call clothes, and while it was somewhat of a relief, he definitely wasn't expecting to be this vulnerable in front of the farmer. Or this shirtless.

** **

At least the many bandages and the surplus of blankets the farmer had piled onto him covered him up alright. And for once, despite being less clothed than usual, he actually felt... warm.

** **

His gaze drifted across the room with a sigh, until he had found the farmer again. He had let his hair down, his hat hung up on the wall, letting Luke notice just how _ long _ it was. He seemed to have had a change of clothes as well, but the thick colorful cotton seemed just as cozy as before, and he held a mug as he stared out the window. Maybe he hadn't noticed the morning prior, but now the house smelled especially like coffee and cinnamon, almost... _ familiar. _

** **

Maybe if Luke finally _ vampired up _ and killed the farmer, he could take over the house. It was really nice. Maybe a little small and a little cluttered, but nice.

** **

But... the farmer was nicer, and Luke still had no idea _ why. _

** **

"Rise and shine, Santiago," the farmer's voice rang out, as if summoned by Luke's thoughts. Given his sleep schedule, it had to be well into the evening by now, if not nightfall given the view through the windows, but not much of what the farmer said to him made sense anyway. The farmer approached once more, taking a seat on the ottoman.

** **

"How ya' feeling?"

** **

Luke wasn't sure how to respond. Truthfully, still pretty bad, but _ better, _ yet also so much _ worse. _ He still felt like something bad was going to happen, like he was going to die or he was going to kill the farmer, and that whatever was happening in that moment, he didn't _ deserve. _

** **

Weakly, but as best as he could from his reclined position, Luke shrugged. The farmer frowned, and Luke tried to avert his gaze, but he could still feel the farmer's eyes on his bandages.

** **

"C'mon, work with me here. I... I'll be honest, I'm really at sea when it comes to how to treat... _ your kind, _ but really, I'm trying to help. And we're gonna need to do something about..."

** **

The farmer raised a hand to his shoulder, mirroring Luke's gunshot wound.

** **

"This," he said, tapping his shoulder. "And, y'know, everything else. So if there's anything I can get you right now, some water, some coffee, maybe some red eye-"

** **

"Why..." Luke croaked, watching the farmer cut himself off immediately and listening intently, clearly caught off guard and excited by the communication. "Why are you doing this?"

** **

The farmer swallowed, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

** **

"You're hurt. Partner, you coulda' _ died _ out there. I guess, again. Or, well..."

** **

The farmer shook his head, causing a strand of hair to fall into his face and absentmindedly moving it back into place, the motion oddly... _ hypnotizing. _

** **

"Either way. 'Round here, we don't let people just get knocked galley west for no reason and leave 'em to die, we help each other out. Most of us, anyway. I try to."

** **

Luke blinked, the slang yet again entirely failing to register, but it somehow kept the intended calming, reassuring tone.

** **

"Oh... _ 'kay, _ I guess," Luke mumbled, still somewhat in shock about the fact that this man _ knew what he was _ and what he was getting into, and still wanted to help. Allegedly. Maybe this was all a long con, all a ruse, and this humble farmer was really a hunter. Luke wouldn't be surprised, or really all that mad. All he was left with were smaller, far less important questions. Like...

** **

"Why do you keep calling me... Santiago?"

** **

The farmer's face fell yet again, but this time holding a bit more amusement, lips twisted into a smirk.

** **

"I suppose you're not from around here. I just figured- He was- He's this... Spanish, soldier saint, it- It doesn't really matter, just..." The farmer took a breath, surprisingly flustered. "Why dontcha’ tell me your real name, then?"

** **

Luke paused for a moment, unsure how to go about this. He was still looking for some level of control over the situation, wasn't he? Could the farmer be trusted with his name? He wasn't a fae or anything, right? Maybe he could just... tease him with it?

** **

By all means a _ horrible _ idea, but Luke couldn't stop himself once he had started. He took a breath, his eyes lowering, trying his hardest to look serious.

** **

"My name... is Dragatoni. Donald Dragatoni. Count Dragatoni. The, uh... the third."

** **

Almost immediately, Luke felt himself slipping. He fell into a strange sort of accent saying that, lips spreading into a smile regardless of how hard he fought to stop it. If he could still blush, he probably was, given the tingling feeling in his cheeks and the slightly panicked, yet giddy warmth this entirely stupid venture gave him. 

** **

".... Donald... Dragatoni. The third," the farmer repeated, clearly not buying it.

** **

"Yeah, Count- _ Count _ Dr- Dragatoni..." 

** **

Luke lost it, just as impulsively as it began, half stifled laughs bubbling out of his chest. He couldn't quite look at the farmer, shielding his mouth with his hand, and realizing that he had briefly forgotten about the fact that he had fangs. He was bearing them in full display, was that intimidating?

** **

He didn't have much time to think about that. He heard the farmer sigh, then breathe a quiet chuckle.

** **

"Am I really gonna have to call you Donald Dragatoni? Count, I mean. Sorry. And the third."

** **

"No- No, it's-" Luke stammered, still giggling, hands vaguely gesturing in front of him before falling back in his lap. Unthinkingly, Luke told him the truth.

** **

"My name is actually, uh... Luke."

** **

The farmer blinked, the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips preceding an eventual smirk.

** **

"Luke... Dragatoni?"

** **

Luke laughed harder than he should have at that, the farmer seeming to revel in the response he had elicited from him. His gaze fell back on the farmer, grinning widely and gripping the blankets close to his chest for comfort, entirely giving up on intimidation. If the teeth weren't doing it, nothing would. 

** **

"No, uh- Sizemore. That's my... real last name. I made all that up."

** **

"Figured," the farmer quipped, looking down at Luke almost... gently. It was strange, the honest concern and compassion in his eyes, his smirk tinged with smugness but carrying a sense of honest happiness, every word with the purpose of understanding Luke better.

** **

Luke couldn't say that was _ in any way _ a _ familiar _ feeling. He still believed somewhere deep down that he didn't deserve it, that the farmer was lying, that this would all inevitably go horribly wrong, but Luke couldn't quite bring himself to care just yet. Down somewhere deeper than the blankets and the dingy electric lights could reach, he felt _ warm. _

** **

"Well, Luke Sizemore, if that's really your name-" the farmer said, shifting in his seat like he was preparing to leave. "You can call me Ian. It's... It's a pleasure having you, really. Gotta admit, I haven't had much of anyone over since… oh, pray tell. Well, I guess one of the chickens broke in here once," Ian mused, slowly moving to stand. "But that's no trouble now. So, you sure there's nothing I can get you?"

** **

Luke couldn't explain why he trusted Ian so quickly. Maybe he didn't have much of a choice, in the position he was now.

** **

"I'll... I'll take some coffee," Luke murmured with a smile. His fangs didn't seem to intimidate Ian at all, if they ever did, his smile reciprocated as Ian went off to fetch it.

** **

\---

** **

“C’mon, partner, hold still.”

** **

Luke hissed through his teeth, eyes squeezed shut, gripping the carpet and the foot of the couch he was leaned up against. If he was thinking clearly, he might have been a bit worried about ruining them, but he certainly wasn't in that moment. Ian seemed largely unfazed by Luke’s plight, working away with only a reassuring squeeze to Luke’s opposite shoulder and a stream of quiet encouragement. 

** **

Luke couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, what he was digging around in Luke’s shoulder for and how far along he was, but it hurt like _ hell. _

** **

It took all his willpower to not scream or swear in front of the farmer, regardless of how much he wanted to. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but he felt strangely guilty about the few grunts and whines he couldn’t hold back. He supposed it all came back to _ guilt. _

** **

In trying to quiet himself, at some point, he started biting his lip. And at some point, his fangs sunk in and it started bleeding, sickly and unnaturally dark. He couldn’t say he cared, it hurt no more than his shoulder, or really anything else.

** **

Not long after he had actually noticed his lip, still facing away from Ian, he heard his nurse chuckle and breathe a sigh of relief, pulling the instrument, not unlike tweezers, out of Luke’s shoulder, along with a tiny pellet.

** **

“There’s the bastard.”

** **

He left the bullet and the instrument on the floor next to him, quickly dousing a washcloth with a liquid presumed to be anti-septic, or maybe just _ straight alcohol _and cleaning off the area. It stung, but no worse than anything else he’d been through tonight, so he only sighed at the pain. Before he knew it, Ian had him bandaged and all set, ready for whatever was next.

** **

“There, that wasn’t so bad, huh Santia- _ ...Oh. _” Ian met his eyes for the first time in a long while, and immediately noticed the blood dripping from Luke’s mouth, his expression dampening with worry. “Oh, good Lord, when did that happen?”

** **

Luke shrugged, looking away like a child being scolded as Ian wetted the washcloth again, only with water this time, dabbing at Luke’s lip and gently wiping away the blood. Despite the coldness of the washcloth, once it seemed Ian was slowing down and Luke built up the courage to look back at him, grey eyes wide with concern and _ closer _ than Luke was expecting, he felt _ warm _again. The same warmth from before, from the mere happenstance of them sharing a space, from when the space between them shortened and Luke inexplicably wanted there to be none left. From the simple proximity of Ian on his knees beside Luke, cleaning up his wounds and his slowly increasing comfort bringing him closer. 

** **

Luke couldn’t quite find a name for the feeling, but it scared him. He had to assume it was some new vampire thing, wanting to be this close to another man. Some predatory instinct, surely.

** **

But at the very least, the warmth and the blood itself instilled a bit of pride in Luke. That he wasn’t yet _ so _inhuman, that there was still a bit of the old him left.

** **

Ian pulled away, the washcloth stained with blood and now, Luke had just realized, staining his hands. He either hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind, sitting back and smiling. _ Warm. _

** **

“‘Kay, you alright?”

** **

Luke took a breath, nodding. He tried to reciprocate Ian’s smile, but the way his lips twisted immediately screamed all sorts of _ wrong _ in his head, and the fear, the _ guilt _came rushing back. 

** **

But it didn’t seem like Ian cared, or at least, he didn’t notice.

** **

“God, I- You _ really _ took a licking, _ partner, _ but you’re braving it just fine. I bet you’ll be back on your feet in no time at all, really. You wanna’ take a break for now?”

** **

Luke blinked, processing the compliment. _ Compliment? _

** **

"Uh… Yeah, sure."

** **

Ian slowly came to his feet, Luke immediately feeling the loss in proximity and once again failing to understand _ why _he longed for it.

** **

“Alright, don’t you go anywhere, just rest. I’ll get you some ice and some water, if you’d like, maybe some coffee? Well, actually, I’m not too sure if coffee would be good for your lip. Are you hungry at all? I can get you-”

** **

“Just…. Just water is fine,” Luke murmured, forcing a smile and trying not to look too pathetic. Ian returned the smile, but did it so much better than Luke ever could, almost making Luke want to cry.

** **

“Just water it is, then,” Ian stated, and walked off. The house was small in itself, so it was hardly like Ian was leaving, but Luke still watched him closely. But his gaze was not predatorial, like he thought it should, not like a cat stalking a bird.

** **

Luke felt trapped. In this house, in his injuries, in Ian’s kindness, in himself. He watched Ian go like a bird trapped in its cage, looking out at the outside world and yearning for it, but forever kept from it. 

** **

And so, in the quiet, familiar rumble of Ian’s home, in the quiet buzzing of the lights and the wind outside, in the sound of Ian’s footsteps and preparing whatever he was getting for Luke, in his iron cage; quietly, he began to sing to himself.

** **

\---

** **

Luke couldn’t quite recall what he had been dreaming about. At least, little beyond the fact that he was running. There was corn, or wheat, or some plant, he couldn’t remember, but it surrounded him. But he was running, and it was dark, and it smelled like ash.

** **

He was surrounded, _ surrounded, _by plant and animal and voices, closing in. He was running out of room to run, and it was loud, and it had caught him, and-

** **

“_ Luke? _ Fuck, no no no, Luke, I-”

** **

He opened his eyes, gasping, to hands on his shoulders, shaking him. To wild eyes, almost as terrified as his own. To practically getting whiplash when the violent shaking stopped, Ian’s hands still on his shoulders, but perfectly still.

** **

“... Oh.”

** **

Luke watched silently as Ian slowly pulled away, the honest fear in his eyes turning into something like embarrassment. It had to be too early, it was much too bright in this room and Luke could barely see, but…

** **

He knew he still had to be sleepy, but Ian’s hair looked shiny from the sunlight filtering in through the windows. That was pretty. He missed the sun. But… that just had to be because he was still tired. _ Tired? _

** **

“... What?” Luke mumbled, yawning. The light was pretty, but it was starting to actually hurt his eyes.

** **

“I- I’m so sorry, I… I shouldn’t have woken you,” Ian murmured. Maybe Ian agreed that it was too bright in this room, because he looked like he was about to cry. “I just… You weren’t breathing, and I forgot because you’re… Yeah. I’m- I’m so sorry, just… go back to sleep.”

** **

Luke blinked, recognizing the ache in his chest and realizing that _ oh, _ Ian was right, he _ hadn’t _ been breathing. He didn’t technically need to, but it did hurt after a while. Just like the light. _ God, _the light hurt. 

** **

Luke nodded weakly, mumbling something about being _ sorry, _and collapsed back into the mound of blankets piled onto him. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, or getting all these blankets, or even getting back up on the couch, but he couldn’t ask himself that even if he had wanted to.

** **

He couldn’t bother to ask why Ian had been watching him sleep, either. He didn’t care, and probably _ wouldn’t _have cared, regardless of the state he was in. He was too tired.

** **

Somehow, he fell back asleep soon after. If he dreamt at all, he couldn’t remember it afterwards.

** **

Still, Ian kept watch for a couple moments after. Maybe more than a couple. 

** **

It was his job, after all, to make sure the one in his care was okay. Wasn’t _ too _ actively in pain, wasn’t dying in his sleep.

** **

A couple moments after he was _ sure _that Luke was asleep again couldn’t hurt either. He had needed a little break from working anyway. Maybe it was a little freaky that Luke didn’t seem to breathe at all when he slept, but…

** **

Even cold, even deadly still, in a strange, darkly bewitching way, Luke was… _ pretty. _

** **

After a couple more moments, Ian had resigned himself to the fact that he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

** **

Carefully, not too close to Luke as not to disrupt him any further, he laid down.

** **

\---

** **

"So, what brought you here in the first place?" Ian asked over breakfast, or _ supper, technically, _eggs and toast for the both of them. He clutched a mug of coffee, now in much looser, lighter clothing and his hair up in a bun again. Maybe it was that Luke hadn't fully woken up yet, but the low lights and what little evening light was still filtering through the windows made the sight oddly magical.

** **

Evening, now, of course. Ian got lucky, and Luke had never found out about Ian’s quick nap next to him. Ian would probably die from the embarrassment if Luke did.

** **

Luke shrugged, trying to distract himself and taking a bite of his toast.

** **

"Uh… I'm from up north, I guess. Not much to it, really. Became a vampire, didn't know how to handle it, ran away."

** **

Ian nodded, somewhat somberly, as if he somehow knew what Luke was going to say.

** **

"You ever thought about going home?"

** **

"God, no," Luke quickly replied, the memory of _ home _itself much more upsetting than he wished it was. "Well- I mean… Of course I did, but it was never really… I can't go back there."

** **

Ian nodded again, gingerly setting down his utensils, having taken exactly two bites of his eggs.

** **

"Because you're a vampire?"

** **

"I- Well, partially. My folks were, uh… A religious bunch, I guess, but mainly it's…"

** **

Luke's gaze wandered, looking out the window and finding the field, slowly slipping into darkness. The discussion itself worried him, pitch black tendrils of memory seizing his chest and spreading the longer he went on, repeating that _ whatever this was, _ comfort or coming clean, _ he didn't deserve it. _ He was pathetic, and weak, and his pain was worth nothing. _ He _ was worth nothing.

** **

Most of all, he didn't want Ian wasting his time any more than he already had. He didn't want Ian feeling sorry for him, pitying him, because there was nothing there to pity him for. It was nothing, he was fine.

** **

And yet, no force of will could keep the sun in the sky, and he too found himself slipping into darkness.

** **

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. Now or ever, it's-"

** **

"No, no- It's fine."

** **

Luke didn't know why he said that, he _ knew _ it wasn't fine. But there he was, in the throes of _ it, _ and Ian's soft gaze became his guiding star in an endless night.

** **

Ian nodded, and Luke took a tattered breath, willing himself to take another bite of his toast, cold by now.

** **

"It's… The girl who… She was my girlfriend at the time, I guess, she's the one who… turned me. And she…"

** **

Luke flinched, memories racing by of ice cold glares, long nails digging into his wrists, her hands on his shoulders and his chest and around his neck, _ everywhere _he didn't want her to be.

** **

Somehow, his gaze met Ian’s once more, and from what could be elaborated on no further than simply the _ look _in Ian’s eyes, he knew Ian felt sorry for him. And somehow, even stranger, it didn’t pain Luke to see it nearly as much as he thought it would. His pain, if he could even call it that, was pathetic and stupid and worthless, he knew, but…

** **

He was being selfish, that had to be it. The look Ian was giving him, the way his eyebrows knitted together in sympathy, the way his lips twisted into a frown, the way he delicately slid his plate to the side and reached across the table, closing his hand over the top of Luke’s own; it was softer than anything Luke had felt ever since he had turned, left a taste in his mouth that was sugary sweet, and he was selfish to want it as much as he did.

** **

“That’s… I- I’m sorry, I… That’s awful,” Ian stumbled over his words, his eyes flickering away, faltering in many ways, but not in his hand still securely held on top of Luke’s. Luke was starting to feel bad again. “I… Guess what I was trying to get at was if… If you don’t have anywhere better to be, I… I think I’d like if you stayed.”

** **

After a moment of staring, Luke released a breath that was well beyond hurting his chest, barely having the strength to take another. If his heart still worked, he wasn’t really sure, but it at least _ felt _ like it was _ pounding _ in his ears.

** **

“Y’know, I… I’ve told you I don’t exactly get much company ‘round here, and I could really use some. Maybe you could help around the farm after dark, and… I dunno’, I don’t mean to ask too much of you, or to make a big ‘ol decision right now, but… I just thought I’d offer.”

** **

Luke had only really processed about half of what Ian had to say, eyes wandering everywhere except where they could meet Ian’s, where they had ought to be. Maybe he didn’t necessarily need air, but he still breathed, and the weight of the question was _ suffocating _ him. His thoughts raced, very few of them anywhere near coherent and absolutely none free of some level of violence and self-hatred, feeling as if he was going to pass out from how they constricted around his skull. The thoughts, the words that couldn’t quite reach his tongue, the answer that he _ oh so desperately _ wanted to give all caught on eachother in his throat, strangling him.

** **

And _ oh, _ like he was left out in the sun, like he was being held underwater for so much longer than any human could ever survive, like there were hundreds of tiny blades ripping him open, like he was with _ her _ again; it hurt, it hurt, it _ hurt. _

** **

And he knew the pain would have to spike before it could subside. 

** **

His anxious gaze finally fell and remained downcast, staring at the table as he slowly shook his head.

** **

“I… I can’t…” Luke muttered, tears sharper than needles stinging at the backs of his eyes, but he simply couldn’t let them fall. Simply couldn’t let _ this, _ whatever Ian _ wanted _ it to be, whatever Luke _ thought _ it was, _ happen. _ It would only hurt, and hurt, and _ hurt. _ “... I’m sorry.”

** **

His gaze remained fixed on the table, because he wouldn’t have been able to stand the way Ian simply _ deflated. _

** **

“... Of course. That’s just fine, too,” Ian practically whispered, hardly making the impression that he thought anything was _ fine. _“I won’t keep you.”

** **

Ian pulled away, the perceived harshness of how he yanked his hand away from Luke’s feeling almost as if he had ripped the skin away from Luke’s bones, now fused to Ian’s palm. Luke couldn’t bear to check, couldn’t bear looking in Ian’s direction at all. 

** **

“... Finish your supper ‘fore it gets cold,” Ian practically _ pleaded, _seeming to have forgotten about his own plate.

** **

There wasn’t much Luke could do about that; it already had.

** **

\---

** **

It wasn’t much longer after that, Luke left. Before Ian could even be comfortably certain that he was even ready to step outside of the house, lacking confidence even in his injuries being fully healed. It was so much sooner than he had hoped, on so many levels.

** **

Because he was alone, now, out on his porch in the middle of the night. _ Again, _ doing nothing but worrying and staring at the clouds covering the stars when he could have been doing something useful, like eating or patching something up, or even just sleeping. He would have preferred just about anything over _ this. _

** **

He would have preferred if Luke was still with him, too. Proof that he couldn’t always get what he wanted.

** **

He was alone, out on his porch in the middle of the night, worrying, and _ drinking. _ Which really did nothing to help his nerves, only slightly numbing his body and ensuring that he would have a _ horrible _time getting to work in the morning. Numb was always better when it came to nights like these, but it still could only do so much. 

** **

Maybe if he had bothered to invest in some better whiskey last time he was down at the market, he wouldn’t be worrying as much as he still was. 

** **

Maybe he wouldn’t be wondering about where Luke was now, if he was okay, if he was hiding in a ditch somewhere _yet again. _Maybe he wouldn’t be worrying about when Luke would inevitably get himself into trouble and get himself hurt again, if he hadn’t already. Maybe he wouldn’t be praying to whatever it was that lived up in the sky _please, let him be_ _okay, _and maybe he wouldn’t be worrying about if they could hear him through the cloud cover that left him in complete darkness.

** **

The whiskey really had done nothing for his nerves; if anything, it had put him completely on edge, because now every rustle of the grass out in the field and every made-up movement out in the darkness screamed _ Luke. _ He doubted there was any chance Luke would come back, but _ God, _he wished he would. If it was nothing but a rustle out in the grass, a whisper carried across the night breezes, another flannel missing from his closet, even if it was one of his chickens turning up dead with two distinct punctures in its side; Ian would take it in a heartbeat.

** **

It wouldn’t calm him for long, knowing that Luke wouldn’t stay, but that was all he could really ask for.

** **

He wished for a future like that, and for a past where he had kept a closer eye on Luke once he got that sinking feeling in his stomach, when he _ knew _ that Luke was going to leave. He wished he could have at least sent him off, with a meal and a real goodbye, fussing over his wounds and what he was wearing one last time, but _ no. _ Luke just _ had _to vanish, without a goodbye, without asking for anything of Ian, into the night that was his true home.

** **

Ian couldn’t say he was mad at him. He cared too much for him to do that, and all of that anger ended up simply pointed at himself, for getting so needlessly _ attached _ in the first place. All he could do was feel sorry for himself, and drink, and worry, and wish for a present where he could just _ pass out. _

** **

He moved to take another sip, and found the bottle run dry. Maybe it was time he turned in for the night, before he was completely beyond sleeping, before he had an entire breakdown and woke all the chickens with the sound of his sobbing.

** **

But it was hard to take his eyes off the expanse of darkness before him, because he had started imagining shadowy shapes to keep his eyes busy, and every single one looked like _ him. _

** **

\---

** **

It wasn’t all that long since he had left, Luke knew, but that pain he had been hoping would subside had only grown, and it was _ killing _ him. 

** **

He wasn’t hurt physically, no more than he had been when he fled, but he had already had two close calls, _ much too close, _ and his ache was due to something much _ deeper _than that.

** **

He named it shame, and it had been with him ever since Ian had taken him in, but now it was unbearable. Ever since he had left without a word, without a goodbye, without a thank-you or any apology. It had been with him when he watched Ian patch him up and care so _ honestly _for him, but now it followed his every movement, haunted his every thought. 

** **

Most of all, it haunted him now, standing alone in the field before Ian’s home. It felt fundamentally _ wrong _ to be back here now, so close to the brush where Ian had found him in the first place, but it was just as wrong for him to leave like he did, and something had to give.

** **

The shame could haunt him all it wanted, but he didn’t have much of a choice anymore. He couldn’t keep living like this, out in the wild; at least not without an apology.

** **

He didn’t know what he’d do if Ian turned him away again, which was an incredibly plausible outcome. He’d go back, he supposed, to the night and the wild and the cowardly hunt, but he truly didn’t know how much longer he’d last.

** **

He didn’t know what he’d do if Ian let him back inside, either. He needed to at least apologize, but if Ian still wanted him to stay…

** **

Luke didn’t know what he’d do, what he even wanted. He wasn’t _ driven _by the shame, but another feeling that he wasn’t quite sure what to name, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to. But he had no choice at this point to deny that feeling, and soon, he felt almost as if he was home.

** **

There weren’t many lights on in the house, at least not through the windows, but there were _ some. _Luke wasn’t sure why he bothered to check, there was no indication that Ian would be anywhere else, but the nerves still took a vicious hold of him. 

** **

He stood before Ian’s door for an agonizingly long time, wondering how exactly he should knock. When he finally did, he could barely hear it over the pounding in his ears, over the hollering ache in his chest that was either his lungs or his heart, but he couldn’t tell for sure.

** **

A couple painfully drawn-out moments passed, and Luke took a step back. If there was any movement inside, he couldn’t hear it over the roar of his thoughts, and he wasn’t sure if he could will himself to try knocking again.

** **

But somehow, miraculously, the door opened.

** **

Ian stood still for a moment, the light from inside illuminating his silhouette as if Luke was truly on heaven's doorstep; the _ last _place he deserved to be.

** **

Luke took another step back without truly meaning to, but Ian still followed, as if he feared Luke was going to vanish into the night once more. Luke wasn't sure if that was what he wanted.

** **

Another step, and another, and before Luke could escape, Ian's hands had captured his own.

** **

"Luke, are- you're… Are you hurt?" Ian asked, practically breathless, his eyes scanning every inch of Luke's body for anything immediately wrong; the only visible sign of pain was the way Luke's eyes watered, barely visible in the moonlight. 

** **

His grip on Luke's hands was intentionally light, but Luke wouldn't have dreamed of escaping it. He shook his head, but Ian was hardly comforted by that, gently pulling Luke back towards the house.

** **

"I- C'mon, Santiago-"

** **

"Wh- Wait-"

** **

"Come inside, at least let me get a better look at you-"

** **

_ "Ian." _

** **

Luke pulled his hands away, almost scaring himself with the intensity of it, distancing himself yet again. His eyes had nowhere to go but Ian, looking worried and frightened and _ glowing, _ but like it always had, it _ hurt. _

** **

"Look, I- I know I shouldn't have… left, like I did, and I'm sorry," Luke stammered, curling in on himself in Ian's absence, the cold finally getting to him.

** **

"Luke, I don't care."

** **

"I'm _ sorry, _and- and you don't have to forgive me-"

** **

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Ian soothed, almost chasing Luke back into the night, but he certainly wasn't planning on losing him again.

** **

"I- I'm just saying, and you don't have to do this, just…" Luke muttered, noticing that he had been almost hyperventilating and released a shaky sigh, gaze falling to the ground as if what he couldn’t see couldn’t hurt him. "I can't… I cannot come in unless I am invited."

** **

It was getting dark, making it difficult to see, but _ Lord, _if Luke wasn't already dead, the look Ian gave him would have killed him.

** **

Ian took a step forward. Another, and another, and captured Luke's hands in his own once more.

** **

"C'mon, partner… You know you're always welcome here."

** **

Luke felt like he was being strangled again, and still, he had no one to blame but himself. Because regardless of how much he wanted to trust Ian, regardless of how much he _ trusted himself, _ Ian was _ kind. _ And that was something Luke wasn't prepared for, didn't deserve, hadn't felt in such a long time that he had practically forgotten what it felt like; and all of the feelings and words he couldn't bring himself to say caught in his throat, and all he could do was _ choke. _

** **

A tiny, ragged breath, and he choked again.

** **

A sniffle. He still couldn't breathe. A sob.

** **

Before he could stop himself, before he could stop _ Ian, _ Ian's arms were wrapped around him and he was crying onto him like a _ child. _

** **

All of these things that Luke knew about himself; that he was an idiot, a burden, an emotional wreck, someone _ unworthy _ of the care he was being given; none of them seemed able to discourage Ian. 

** **

Not that Luke wanted him to stop, _ Jesus Christ would he never, _ but the fact that it was being shown to him at all was simply… bewildering. And maybe he was being selfish, allowing it from Ian; it was only another word he could use to define himself, powerful only when he allowed it to be. At the very least, it was a descriptor that let him feel better. One that allowed him to feel safe in Ian's arms, comfortable, _ warm. _

** **

Maybe being selfish wasn't even all that much of a bad thing; if Ian allowed it, _ wanted it, _ who was Luke to deny him?

** **

Even out in the cold, even crying; somehow, Ian's arms felt like home.

** **

"C'mon inside, please. I was just about to make supper."

**Author's Note:**

> [sad, distant, yet passionate yeehaw]


End file.
